I'll Remain (Even After You Go)
by MarauderRiss88
Summary: "Who are you? And why are you appearing to me as James and Lily Potter?" Part 2 from the I'll Stay 'verse! When Harry is in his magical coma, James and Lily stay with him, just like they will even after he awakes.


Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.

A/N: Well, to be fair, I _did_ say that I probably wouldn't be able to stay away from this 'verse!

Okay, this story is a part of the "I'll Stay" 'verse, and it takes place during chapter 7 of I'll stay. _**Spoiler alert for those who haven't read that story!**_

When Harry awakes from his coma, he tells Sirius that James and Lily stayed with him until he woke. As I wrote this line, I thought to myself, _"Well, wouldn't it be interesting to see Harry with his parents?"_ and then after another few moments, I thought, _"Duh, Rissa. You wanna read that, you're probably gonna have to write it."_

Which brings us here! This story will be pretty short, as it just shows some James, Lily and Harry bonding; because I hope I wasn't the only one curious to what happened while Harry was in his coma!

Hope y'all enjoy it!

###

Harry James Potter had _no bloody clue_ where he was.

Normally, this might not have prompted chilling, bone-deep fear. A little anxiety, perhaps, but not really fear, per se.

Except that, the last thing Harry consciously remembered, was the Battle of Hogwarts. Throwing his magic out as pure and as powerful as he could at Riddle. Praying that he would be strong enough.

And then…nothing.

Until he woke up _here_ , of course.

Looking around as he sat up (and how had he ended up on his back?) Harry noted that ' _here'_ seemed to be some sort of grounds…almost like a quiddich pitch. As he realized that, everything abruptly took form; the fuzzy picture just beyond the pitch became Potter Manor, and off to the other side, he noticed the walls around the far edge of the expansive property.

How'd he get _home_?

Gingerly, he got to his feet, and the next thing he noticed, was how _great_ he felt. That in itself was alarming; he hadn't felt this good since he left with Ron and Hermione, the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding. The night he left this home. The night he left Sirius and Remus.

He hadn't realized how lucky he was until he was on the run, looking for horcruxes, away from home and everything familiar, away from Remus' gentle lectures and thoughtful insights, away from Sirius' overprotectiveness and his attentive ear and the multitude of hugs that never failed to offer him comfort and stability and love and understanding and support…

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he really, really needed it.

Dusting his jeans off (though it was more an instinctive action; there was so much dirt and blood and dust on his clothes that he'd probably have to ask Dotty to burn them, because really, house elf magic could only do so much) he headed off in search of his Godfather. Because _wherever_ he was, even if this was the death he had suspected, he _knew_ that Sirius would somehow find him, or get through to him…he could count on that. He had _always_ counted on that.

He had barely taken more than ten steps, before a tingle on the back of his neck alerted him to a presence behind him. Having spent all the time he had on the run, he had grown accustomed to listening, honing and differentiating those feelings, so he knew it wasn't a threatening presence.

"Sirius?" His Godfather's name left his lips involuntarily as he turned, his mind automatically accepting that the man had made it to him so easily, because he _knew_ Sirius wouldn't leave him.

But it wasn't Sirius Black that stood there.

Those faces…Harry had only ever seen them in pictures. In memories.

Without missing a beat, his wand was in his hand and pointed at them. His face was set in a fierce scowl, but he knew his eyes were a direct link to the turmoil inside him at seeing the faces he had longed to see for as long as he could remember, and knowing that it wasn't what he wanted it to be. Knowing that it wasn't _who_ he wanted it to be.

"Who are you?" he demanded sharply, his wand throwing out golden sparks, reacting to the barrage of emotions assaulting its master. "And why are you appearing to me as James and Lily Potter?"

###

James Potter didn't know whether to laugh and ruffle his kid's hair in pride, or whether to cry at the fact that his little baby had to be so suspicious in the first place.

What had happened to that tiny baby he had once held in his arms, that seemed so filled with wonder at the smallest of things? The baby that had thought everything was _magical_ and _wonderful_ and _enthralling_? The child that never once considered anyone to be a danger to him, because he couldn't _fathom_ anyone causing hurt to another?

How had he become this scowling teen, with the eyes so saturated with hurt and pain? What had brought him to the point where he couldn't accept that magic allowed him a chance to meet with his parents after 16-odd years?

Well, of course, James knew exactly what had brought his baby to this point. He'd seen everything, with his own two eyes. All the trials and tribulations Harry had had to endure at the hands of that _monster_ …however, James had always seen his child emerge victorious. Worse for wear, a fair few times, no doubt, but always alive and victorious despite old Voldie's intentions and best attempts.

He had always chosen to think that Harry bounced back from all those encounters. And maybe he did, from the first. And maybe also from the second. And the third. Perhaps even the fourth. But every encounter, every loss, every hurt after that, had to have chipped away at even the last reserves of optimism and hope.

Resulting in the child he saw before him.

His heart ached, but he forced himself past it. He held out a cautionary hand to Lily, whose green eyes reflected the pain he knew was in his eyes too. His beautiful redhead nodded minutely, a clear permission for him to try to get through to their son first.

Turning his gaze to his son – his _baby_ , his _boy_ , his _Prongslet_ – he didn't fight the loving smile that quirked his lips upwards.

"Harry." He breathed his son's name like a prayer and a plea, all at once. Holding up his hands palm up, placating, he took a slow step forward. "It really is us, son."

"No," Harry shook his head, the agony in his eyes multiplying, "no, it can't be! What kind of a sick, cruel joke is this?" His gaze suddenly narrowed and the grip on his wand grew tighter. "You're with _him_ aren't you? I'm dead, or dying, and he's still trying to take some kind of twisted revenge!"

Keeping his voice calm, James shook his head. "You're 1 for 3, son. It _can_ be, and we're _not_ with Voldemort, he can't hurt you anymore, but," he flinched visibly, the words clogging in his throat, "you are…near death."

Confusion took the place of the hurt. "I'm _not_ …dead?"

"No, baby, you're not." This time, it was Lily who spoke up softly, unable to stand on the sidelines anymore. "You're in a magical coma, in the real world."

"And you two?" Harry asked, and finally a bit of hope made a frisson in his otherwise harsh tone. "You're…really here? You're real, and here with me?"

James nodded. "Yes, son. We're here, and we'll be here with you, until you wake up."

Of course, his child could not have been a Potter if he wasn't thorough before dropping his guard. Keeping his wand aloft, Harry locked eyes with Lily first. "What would you rather have dated in your fifth year before James Potter?"

Lily laughed through the tears that James knew were already cascading down her cheeks. "The Giant Squid."

James cringed at the memory and Harry turned his wand on him. Before his son could ask any question, he offered in a level, almost soothing tone. "My animagus form is a stag named Prongs. I got the name from my friends in school, and we called ourselves The Marauders. It was made up of myself, Remus Lupin, who is a werewolf that we nicknamed Moony, and Sirius Black, whose animagus is a Grim named Padfoot. He's also your Godfather and my best friend and brother. Unfortunately, Peter Pettigrew, a rat animagus named Wormtail, was also part of our group, but he betrayed us, and is essentially the reason we're here."

By the time he had finished his little tirade, Harry's wand was stuck back in the holster Moody had gotten him, and tears were running down his cheeks too. James didn't know who moved first, but Harry was in Lily's arms in the next moment, sobbing quietly into her shoulder as she whispered comfort into his ear and smoothed back his hair.

James held back, mostly because he was feeling – dare he even say it? – _insecure_. He hadn't felt that way since Hogwarts, when Lily had been so dead against dating him. Even when Harry had been born, he had felt secure in the knowledge that he would be the best father he could possibly be, because bloody hell, he loved Harry since the child was no more than a vague idea in his mind.

Now, though? Now, Harry had been forced to grow up without him. He had nothing more than an idea of his dad; an idea James wasn't sure he could live up to. Moreover, his son had grown up with Sirius as a substitute dad…did he even hold a place in Harry's heart as 'father' anymore? Lily was unique; his mum, the woman who gave her life for him…what if he was replaceable? What if he _had been_ replaced?

Merlin, he had no idea how to approach his own son. The baby he had held in his arms countless times, sang to sleep, dried away his tears…his baby boy. His _everything_ , next to Lily.

When Harry finally looked up at him, breaking away from his mother, James felt his heart jump into his throat. For a second, father and son simply drank each other in, the former hardly able to believe how much the latter looked like him.

When James saw the hesitation in the eyes Harry took from his mother, the very same hesitation that he was feeling himself seemed to melt away. All that mattered was making sure Harry was okay, and the best way to do that…

In a second, James was crushing his boy to his chest, holding him with a strength that he was sure probably left the teenager with some bruises. For anything in all the worlds, though, he couldn't fathom letting go, especially when Harry's arms wound around him just as desperately, and his son's sob echoed in his ear. James knew he was crying too, but all he could do, like Lily, was run his hands over Harry's hair, his face, his shoulders…as if trying to commit to memory the feel and sight of his _precious_ baby boy.

"Oh, Harry, _son_ …my _baby_ , my boy…" he muttered without thinking, clumsily brushing away the moisture staining his son's cheeks, painfully reminiscent of when Harry was an infant.

Lily joined in their hug, pushing the infamous Potter hair behind Harry's ear. "Oh, darling, how you've _grown_."

Smiling through his tears, Harry nodded, his hair springing stubbornly back over his forehead. "I can't believe it's you… _both_ of you…I saw you both, in the graveyard, but I…it was…"

"Hush, Harry…" he consoled his son, and his heart swelled when Harry leaned into him, burying his face in James' neck, seeking comfort from his voice and his embrace. "It's alright. Everything is okay. You did it, son… _you did it_. You defeated Voldemort."

Harry's green eyes widened almost comically, and it seemed the combination of seeing his parents and the relief of everything being over was too much for the teenager.

James just barely caught him as he fell to the floor.

###

"Honestly, Potter, you could've tried telling him everything a bit more tactfully! _Merlin_ , you're hopeless!"

Harry briefly wondered who was scolding him, and why, and it was after a few beats that he realized.

 _ **He**_ _wasn't the Potter being scolded._

Abruptly, his eyes flew open, almost scared to find out that everything had been a dream, or even worse, that he had awoken in the real world without getting a chance to say anything to his parents.

The first thing he saw was two pairs of eyes; one set the very same green as his own, and another a deep shade of hazel. Although this should have been proof enough, Harry only exhaled a shaky sigh of relief when his father grinned at him, the smirk he had only seen before in a memory.

"You have _got_ to be more careful, mate," James said cheerfully, although Harry could read the underlining fear in his eyes. "Didn't you hear the old wives' tale about dying in a dream making you die in real life?"

Lily elbowed him sharply before turning a tender smile on Harry. "You flat lined in the hospital when you fainted here, darling," she told him gently. "You gave Sirius quite a fright. In fact, I don't think I've _ever_ seen him so absolutely terrified."

"I can relate." Though he had been teasing until now, James finally showed the fear that had been lurking in his eyes. "You're supposed to be _out of_ the danger zone now, little Marauder."

Lily scowled briefly at James, and with that action, a flash of memory flitted through Harry's mind; a fuzzy recollection that he wasn't even sure was real, of being a baby, and his father carrying him around everywhere…grinning at him and playing with him, and with all the love in the world in his hazel eyes…his mother becoming exasperated because _"If you call him 'mate' and 'Prongslet' and everything else except 'Harry' all the bloody time, James, how's he ever going to learn his own name?"_

Taking a chance, he grinned up at Lily. "I did learn my name, at least," he ventured helpfully. "Well… eventually."

James threw his head back, roaring with laughter, and even his mother couldn't hide her grin. "I'd wager that's more thanks to Remus than your father," she replied, elbowing her husband in the ribs again.

"Probably," Harry snickered, getting up into a sitting position. "But to be fair, he still calls me 'cub' more often than he calls me by name. And Sirius is just as bad with all the nicknames; _'Harry James Potter'_ is usually reserved for when I get into trouble," he made a face.

It hit him sharply, the realization that he was talking to his parents about the people that raised him, in their place. About Sirius, who he called ' _Dad'_ more than once, to the man who _was_ his dad, and who would have been, if he had been given the chance.

He held his breath as he lifted stricken green eyes to them. Had he hurt them by seeing Sirius the way he did? By seeing Remus the way he did?

Were they hurt that he was talking about the life that they were so brutally deprived of?

###

A/N: Short, I know…but we're getting there! If there's anything you'd like to say, please let me know and I'll try to incorporate it into the story!

Otherwise, please review and let me know what you think! Cheers!

-Marissa


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